


When the Snow Miser Attacks

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta end up housesitting for the week leading up to Christmas.<br/>What on earth could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Snow Miser Attacks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notfromcold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfromcold/gifts).



> I had the lovely prompt for Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta finding themselves snowed in. Unfortunately, snow of that calibre is unlikely in France, from what I understand. However, something similar happened to many people near and dear to me not too long ago, and so I have transplanted our story to ice and snow storms of Christmases more recently past.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

In retrospect, it may have been inevitable.

In retrospect, they should have expected something to go wrong from the moment Bossuet's aunt called him up to housesit.

In retrospect, maybe they should have suggested asking someone a little less disaster-prone to mind the house. They could have vouched for Enjolras and Combeferre, who would have appreciated a quiet study space, or Feuilly, who would have enjoyed the time alone and space for friends, however much of a drive that visit would have taken.

But the thought of a week where the three of them could stay together, live together, and generally just be together was too much to pass up. And if it came with fantasies of domestic life where they were out of school and able to afford this kind of lifestyle on their own merit, perhaps bringing up children with fantastic, ridiculous names; perhaps adopting five cats, two dogs, four snakes, a bird, and assorted aquatic life; perhaps just being them and proving to the world that they could be a successful, stable unit despite defying societal norms in more ways than one; well… all the more reason, right?

And so, nearly a week before Christmas, they move in with two trunkloads of Christmas decorations, cheesy movies, board games, presents, and other accoutrements deemed necessary by one or more of the trio, including a hastily-drawn but heraldically accurate flag (in case we need to declare the house its own sovereign nation, Joly had solemnly explained as he drew the final details on its rough design).

By the next day, the house is unmistakably theirs. The fridge is stocked, there's a box of non-fridge things under the kitchen table, Christmas decorations have been placed judiciously wherever there is space around Tante Marie-Claude's own furniture and knick-knacks, and no less than three tinsel fights have occurred. Even Câline, the white, fuzzy, household cat has warmed up to them, and in fact had fallen asleep in Joly's lap while they marathoned Rankin/Bass Christmas specials, which had made checking his phone when he heard the all-too-familiar pokecenter noise indicating a text from Combeferre all the more difficult.

"Party's off for tomorrow," he relates, "Ferre says it's going to be pretty bad out there."

Bossuet sighs as he tilts his head up against Joly's knees. "I told you we should have packed our toboggans."

"For one, we don't own any," Musichetta reminds him, rubbing his smooth scalp. "And I don't think we'd have had room for them even if we did."

"They don't take up much room if they're on the bottom," Bossuet counters. "Hey. Maybe if it's deep enough we can go buy some flying saucers. There's a park with a nice hill not far away, we used to go there during our January birthday party every year when we were kids."

"And get snow everywhere?" Joly muses.

"It'll be fun," Bossuet promises.

"And before you go worrying about pneumonia," Musichetta interjects, "between hot baths, hot drinks, heated blankets, and hot bodies, I'm sure we could find ways to warm up afterwards. We brought the hot chocolate powder, didn't we?"

The discussion devolves from there into debates about milk versus water as a base for chocolate beverage (which was won by Baileys), the number and types of hill-sliding equipment needed for maximum enjoyment (deferred until an appropriate store is visited, or Amazon Prime scoured), and eventually culminates in the three of them piling into the guest bed with promises to pick up with The Year Without a Santa Claus the next day.

~~~~

As per usual, Combeferre's predictions prove accurate enough to warrant suspicions of clairvoyance. The snow had been blowing enough that they could hear it when they woke, a tangle of warm limbs that made wanting to move rather difficult. Indeed, it was nearly noon when they finally did decide to get up and relocate to the living room, the wind still howling loud enough for them to put off any want to shovel the snow until after things had settled down somewhat.

Instead, a collection of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate is prepared, along with the first bag of pizza snacks. (Bossuet had deemed them an appropriate brunch and movie watching meal choice, and Joly, in his medical opinion, had been fast to agree.)

Ironically enough, they were halfway through Snow Miser's song when the lights flickered for the first time. They cut out for a full minute as they were making their way toward Sun Miser's lair, and by the time they'd gotten it set up a second time and had divided up parts so they could sing along and declare both the Sun Miser (Bossuet) and Snow Miser (Joly) too much, it went off once again.

Five minutes later, it still wasn't back yet.

"I should check the fuse box," Musichetta decides, carefully standing and disentangling herself from both her boys.

"No, I can do it," Bossuet replies. "I know the house better, I should--"

"How many times have we had to call an electrician after you checked the fuse box?"

"That wasn't my fault -- I didn't even touch it the second and third times, but --"

"It's still safer if she does it," Joly allows.

"I'll still let you show me where it is," Musichetta offers, and Bossuet quickly agrees to these terms while Joly collects Câline before she ends up lost in the dark basement herself.

After about five minutes Musichetta emerges, declaring the fuse box fine. A forty-five minute phone call to the power company later, almost all of which was spent on hold, confirmed that power was out throughout the region, and while they were aware of the incident, there was no clear estimate of when it would be restored.

"So," Bossuet muses, "board games?"

And so, their afternoon is spent in a wash of Scattergories (in which Joly successfully argued for Enjolras as Things that are Red, citing how rarely he's seen not wearing the colour), The Game of Life (in which everyone added two people to their cars at the "Get Married" space), Letters to Santa (which Musichetta won five times in a row), and Hungry Hungry Hippos (in which Bossuet came in third despite dual-wielding the green and orange hippos). Updates from their friends included Grantaire's "merde, il neige" snapchat, and several texts confirming that everyone was safe, and that yes, the power was indeed out.

It was too dark to play by natural light at five, and even Hungry Hungry Hippos seemed less enticing after five rounds.Thus, a dinner of sandwiches was prepared and enjoyed romantically by candlelight, before an evening of cuddling, discussion, and making good use of warm bodies in a cold bed.

~~~~

The three awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of loud cracks from outside. But Joly's phone declared it to be 3:27, which he interpreted as "no time to be getting up" to the general agreement of the group at large, and so they heaped back together and drifted off one by one, the wind's howling seeming louder in the silence of the night.

~~~~

"Merde," ended up being the caption he put to the snapchat he sent the next morning of the downed tree in their front yard. Bossuet had hardly been able to open the door that morning for the branches, and a quick expedition around from the back confirmed it was nearly miraculous that the tree had all but entirely avoided the house, with branches causing just cosmetic damage to the garage door.

("Accurate use of language," Grantaire had texted back, along with a picture of himself faceplanted in snow that must have been to his knees. Joly wasn't quite sure who had taken it for him, but its composition was good, and he saved it to his phone regardless.)

An hour on the phone confirmed that both tree removal and electricity were working as hard as they could, but nothing could be promised, the words "soon as possible" peppered with "a few days" and "up to a week".

Joly and Musichetta both turned off their cell phones, leaving the landline available for those who knew their location, and Bossuet's cell (which never seemed to keep a full charge, but whose last bar could stretch forever) for those who didn't. Between the three of them, they figured, at least one phone should still hold charge and be taking calls until the power is restored, or they are forced to accept that the concept of electricity has, in fact, died once and for all, and they are all to return to a new dark age. (From there, it was quickly decided that, in the case of nuclear winter, they would go adventuring. Bossuet pointed out he already had the proper hairdo for a monk, to which Joly replied that as a primary healer, he's contractually obliged to be a cleric. Musichetta debated being a sorcerer, but decided being a paladin would be the strongest choice to round out the [un]holy trio.)

After that, it was back outside to clear the driveway as best as possible around the fallen tree, a fact that was equally problematic because of the amount of snow, and the layer of ice that had formed due to freezing rain during the night. It wasn't even the right kind of snow for making snowmen with, much to their dismay, although that didn't stop them from a few playful antics while getting the job done as well as possible.

Going back inside was nice when done, but lacking a satisfying warmth as the house was cooling without electric heat, and there could be no promise of hot drinks to help take the edge off. Stripping down and cuddling under blankets, however, remained a viable option, and even Câline found it prudent to join them in the search for comfortable warmth.

~~~~

"You don't suppose she has a camping stove," Musichetta wonders aloud.

"A camping stove?" Bossuet repeats.

Joly frowns. "It could be dangerous. Using one indoors could lead to gas poisoning and…"

"And we could use it outside, on the back patio," Musichetta finishes for him. "I just think it would be nice to have a hot meal, or at least a drink."

"She might," Bossuet offers. "I can go look, if you'd like."

"I'll go," Musichetta insists again. "You, however, should clear out the fridge and freezer. Ironically, that food would also be better on the patio."

And so they did just that; the boys finding a few boxes and bins and filling them with food, while Musichetta successfully sources a small camping stove and some fuel. After that, they have their first hot meal in over a day, and it feels delightful.

~~~~

The next few days pass in a slow blur of mostly cold food, as many hot drinks as they can bear braving the elements to make, cuddling together and with the cat for warmth and companionship, and hours spent reading, talking, and constructing a D&D campaign for their nuclear winter-based alter egoes which they take turns DM-ing.

"What if we're still like this by Christmas?" Joly wonders aloud on the 23rd, when nothing much has changed.

"Then we'll celebrate it together," Bossuet replies. "It'll be beautiful, intimate, and we'll just have to have a second celebration later with all the awesome food and cheesy Christmas specials we can get our hands on."

Musichetta nods in agreement. "It will be good. I promise."

“I hope so,” Joly replies with a smile that seems far too weak. 

~~~~

Christmas Eve night is spent watching the stars. The sky is thankfully clear (the general consensus being that it's already quite a white enough Christmas, thank you very much) and the stars shine brighter without the usual light pollution dimming their glow. 

They talk about space; the science and the fantasy that fills the sky. They talk about Christmas stars and other less traditional things that might top a tree. They talk about the future and exactly what they want to see within it. At some point, Musichetta starts humming, and they lose themselves in song together. At another, they fall into silence and just revel in each other's company before picking up the conversation’s thread once more. Eventually, when words and minds are both exhausted, they collapse once more into bed together, feeling closer and more intimate than ever. 

~~~~

It feels like no time at all until Joly awakes. The house is still dark, so he deems that it must still be ridiculous o’clock, and doesn't bother checking any more closely. Still, something seems off, and knowing him he won't be able to get back to sleep without knowing what it is.

It doesn't take much time blearily walking around to figure it out: they must have left the tv on last night after they switched to talking.

He turns it off, but leaves the tree on, liking the warm glow it casts on the otherwise dark room. 

~~~~

It's Bossuet who wakes the other two with the good news, sometime after sunrise. 

“I don't care what they say,” he announces, “Santa Claus came last night and left us the greatest gift of all in the modern age: electricity!”

Indeed, the house is warmer than it's been in days, he can hear the quiet thrum of the house’s normal ambient noise, and clocks appear to be blinking on far too many surfaces, waiting to be reset. 

They start the day with hot baths that feel heavenly and a hearty, properly cooked breakfast before settling in to open presents. Ironically, Joly finds a solar-powered battery charger amongst his various gifts from Bossuet. ("We didn't specifically need it," he apologetically points out, "and if I'd have tried to find it, it probably would have broken." Joly easily concedes that he is right on both counts.)

From there, they pick up right where they left off: snuggling on the couch together and marathoning Rankin-Bass and Muppet Christmas specials, with breaks in between for food, phone calls, and an hour or so of roleplaying in which their characters discover the Great Tree of X-Mas and gain superpowers.

It's not the bustle of the Christmases they've each experienced before, but it's nice in its own way: quiet, reflective, warm, and thankful, spent with the people who matter most.

And even if it's going to take days for the residual feeling of cold to disappear, and Bossuet's already given off more static shock than he had in the past week combined, none of them would really have it any other way.


End file.
